Memoirs of a Girl Called Shadow
by SouthernGeek
Summary: For those of you who have read my other Step Up fic, Who Could Love a Monster, this is a re-vamped version that makes me happier than WCLM. I hope you like it as much as I do./ Ana was nothing but a shadow. Day by day, city by city. Nothing to hold on to. When she finds finally solace, it is ripped away. She loathes it. But can one person change that? Will she want to go back?


**Hey guys. I know it's been forever but I am finally doing what I said and re-vamping WCLM. I really hope to be able to update often, with school winding down and all that jazz. I hope y'all like Memoirs. Also, if you choose to review (which you should) it would be awesome if I could get your opinion on whether or not I should continue with Who Could Love a Monster. I'm aware of the short-ness of this chapter and I apologize. I hope y'all like my new story. Thanks :)**

* * *

Shadow POV

What's up? The name's Ana, but you can call me Shadow. If you came here expecting a cutesy, lovey-dovey romance story, you can clear out now. That's not my story. Mine is filled with betrayal, passion, and a need to be heard. Curious? I thought so. But, for my story to make sense, I have to start at the beginning. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you: Memoirs of a Girl Called Shadow.

Living your whole life in one spot might seem horrible to some people. Exhausting, even. But I was just fine with the little town smack in the middle of Northeastern Alabama. Sure I wanted to travel but I always knew my heart was there, as deeply rooted in the soil as the gigantic oak tree in the front yard of the house. It provided a sort of net that I knew would always be there when I came back. I loved it from the first time I rolled down Main Street in the front of a moving van. From the old-fashioned ice cream parlor on Main Street to the playground to the library on Cherry Road, never in all my sixteen years had a place felt more like home.

But no. My father and his job. That was always the problem. Every few years he would get another transfer that would take us somewhere far away from where I had just gotten settled. I was born in Houston, Texas, but I have live almost everywhere. You name it, I've been there. London? Check. Paris? Check. Dublin? Check. Seattle? Check. Washington D.C.? San Francisco? Quebec? Check, check, check. My father finally had gotten a permanent, or so I thought, job in my mother's hometown in Alabama the year I was supposed to start high school. Because of our constant moving, I was homeschooled for the majority of my life. My mom, however, wanted me to have a normal high school experience and quickly enrolled me in her old school. The same lockers, classes, heck, even the same teachers were there from when she graduated.

I loved every minute of it.

First period Geometry is where I met the person who would change my life. Chelsea Vann. A little 5'4" ball of black hair and hyper. She almost tackled me trying to get to her seat on my first day. We've been best friends ever since. As it turns out, we both had one crucial thing in common. She loved to dance, just as bad as I did. Not country line dance like you're thinking. She was from Baton Rouge. She grew up on the streets, dancing with a crew for money, drugs, food, etc. After almost being raped by her crew leader, she turned herself in to social services. She was nine.

We talked about everything under the sun. I learned about her past and she learned about mine. After about two months, she showed me La Torre, or The Tower. Chelsea found it and with her Cajun background, a Louisianian-French name wasn't far behind. It was an old abandoned building with half of one wall missing. She and couple of her friends hung out there sometimes. I thought it was just another hang out spot with the moth-eaten couch in the corner and the hole in the wall covered in mirrors for decoration. I couldn't have been more wrong.

Upon arrival at La Torre, I immediately noticed the decor. Dragons. Lots of them. Like, _everywhere._ I just kinda shook it off, determined not to be put off by my only friend's choice in mythical creatures. The second thing, or rather person, I noticed was a small, cutesy-looking boy of about twelve.

"Yo, Cowgirl! Who's your friend?" he called from his sprawled place on the aforementioned couch. I mean seriously, that thing was _disgusting_.

"Rocket, meet Ana. Ana, this is Rocket, our resident hacker slash everything-to-do-with-any-form-of-tech wizard. Roc, where's the crew? I told everybody to be here by four thirty." Chelsea flopped beside the twelve year-old, ruffling his hair. Rocket glared at her by way of reply.

"Kity had a club thing and Kota's on his way with Jeans. His mom threw him out again, by the way."

"Damn, again? I thought he was doing better." She sighed and sagged against the back of the couch. I noticed they had all but forgotten me standing there so I tried to make myself noticeable again.

"Um, sorry but I have couple questions. First, who is Jeans, your dog? Second, where the hell am I? Third, what is up with all the freakin' dragons?!" My mini-spazz out was apparently highly amusing because as soon as the word "dog" left my mouth, Rocket almost rolled on the floor because of his laughter. Chelsea reigned it in enough to explain.

"Jeans is short for Blue Jeans. It's a nickname for Ricky, one of our members."

"Members?" Great. The only friend I make is in some kind of cult.

"Let me finish," she smirked, "To answer your other questions, you are at La Torre. The psuedo-headquarters for our crew. And the dragons. It's who we are." I was sufficiently weirded out by this point.

"Okay. Explain please. You're dragons? Is this like, a secret Dungeons and Dragons thing without the Dungeons?"

"No," Chelsea laughed, "It's the name of our crew. It's our competition name. We are the House of Dragons. We compete in competitions all over the country for prize money."

"For money?" I said, raising a single eyebrow.

"Don't freak out. We give everything to the town. You know the ice cream place on Main? It was going to close a while back. Well, the City Council got a very generous donation with specific instructions to use the money for the parlor."

"Let me guess, the donation was the same amount as what you won at a competition?"

"Bingo, chicka."

"Well. that's great and everything but it doesn't explain my last question. Why did you bring me here?"

"Come on, girl. I thought you were smarter than this. I brought you here because I thought you could be an awesome addition to our crew."

"Oh. Cool. When do I start?" I smiled at Chelsea.

"Hold up. One rule first. You have to audition. If the crew likes you, you get in."

"And if they don't?" She just shrugged her shoulders at me. Headlights flooded the room through the single window facing the dirt road. Rocket shot up like a, well, like a rocket and bolted for the door with a shout.

"Kota!" Chelsea smiled, albeit a little sadly, at the kid's back.

"Dakota is Rocket's big brother. It's just them at home. Kota's seventeen and works full-time at a restaurant downtown and part-time night shifts at the only gas station in town. Rocket almost never gets to see him." I just nodded like I understood. It made me feel bad. My biggest problem at the moment was wondering how long my family would be here and here is this twelve year-old kid practically raising himself. Chelsea shook herself like she was getting rid of bad memories.

"Come on. It's time you meet the rest of my House." She held her hand out to me. I had slid onto the floor sometime during the questioning without realizing it. I looked at her, blew a strand of hair out of my eyes, and took her hand. We walked out to the car. I was stunned with what I saw.

"Yo Cowgirl! Wassup?!"


End file.
